WalMart Whoopee
by Jazelle1996
Summary: This is the story of my trip to WalMart one late evening, where I got what WalMart doesn't sell. It takes place after Eric flies off at the end of current season, but he doesn't go to Ares. He just moved.


My name is Barbara Eden. Don't give me a hard time about my name, please. My father gave me that name because he had a crush on the actress that played Jeannie on 'I Dream of Jeannie.' It's from that, like, 70s sitcom where Jeannie was a well, uh, genie, and her Master was Captain/Major Anthony Nelson. I've been hearing it for the past twenty years of my life, partly by older people … like the old farts in their 40s. I don't need to hear it anymore.

Anyway, I had recently moved to Bon Temps, Louisiana, but please don't harass me about that, either. I was looking for a small town after my break-up with my boyfriend of five years … my first and only boyfriend, mind you. And, like, Bon Temps was definitely on the Wikipedia top five for 'smallest town in America where nobody really does anything.'

After finding an apartment I had to get a job to pay for the apartment, right? Easier said than done, I soon realized. The only job I could get was at a 24-hour WalMart. The kicker was I had the 10pm to 3 am shift. I'm like, lousy hours with lousy pay. But hey, it's a start, right?

So, on my one night off I had to do my weekly shopping at … where else? WalMart, but went to another location like, thirty miles away. I didn't want my coworkers to know what I buy.

Of course I'm dressed normally, for WalMart, anyway. I've seen pictures of idiots who wear robes and slippers and basically their size 18 ass hanging out of size 10 shorts - not something one wants to see, right?

So, I'm like going down the aisles for Raman Noodles, peanut butter and jelly, soups, that sort of thing. Like, your basic survival food. I get my shampoo, deodorant, and a few other small items as well. I had to get undies, too. Not briefs, no way! Are you like, kidding me? I only wear lacey, girly, thigh high undies, thank you very much!

That night, though, I was in a particularly spendy mood so I checked out the nighties, found a cute black polka dot negligee that would just barely pass my hips, though I would be like, killing it wearing it!

So, I'm done and go to the check-out lines, right? Of course, it's like 1 am, and there was only one line open. And, of course, there are eight people standing in line with literally their basics full. I grab the current Cosmo, stood in line and started reading, occasionally checking out how the line progression is going.

I'm, like, totally absorbed in an article when five minutes later the bitchy woman behind me fusses at me to move. I look up to see what her problem was and notice the cashier standing there giving me a death glare because he'd already completed the sales for the people in front of me. But this cashier was a vampire, it seemed, and his name tag read Eric.

He was hottest vampire that ever graced the isles of a WalMart, let me tell you! He's, like, seven feet tall; broad, thick, muscled shoulders; dark blonde, long, straight hair; a sexy as hell cleft chin; high cheek bones; and the most gorgeous blue-green eyes a man could ever possess.

"Next, please," he says to me, his voice rife with annoyance at my slowness.

I start loading the conveyor belt with my stuff, not paying attention to what the cashier was doing. Everything's out of the cart, so I push it forward to the spinning bag holder twirler thing. Sorry, yeah I work at WalMart, but I'd be damned if I know what the hell it's called.

So anyway, he'd already rung up some items, so I'm standing there and he grabs the latest Carter Marshall romance novel, and like actually flips through each page from front to back. "No," he says as he places it in the box underneath the register. "I don't believe you will want to read this. There's no way anyone would believe she got knocked up by the closeted-gay male dentist." Like an idiot I don't say anything because, well, damn! He's hot as hell!

He grabs the shampoo, flips the lid open, smells it then rings it up. "Fresh apple. Yum."

Then he takes the package of the lace undies. "Size six? Are you sure these will fit you?"

"Excuse me?!" I huff.

"You look more of a size two to me." Okay, so I'm flattered.

He rings the food through, and given the fact that he's a vampire, he has no interest in human food anyway.

Taking the deodorant, he opens it and smells that. "Fresh linen." He looks at me. "I think you need to put this on now."

"Wha'?" I mutter, thinking I stink to high hell or something.

"Never mind."

Then he takes the Maxi pads and looks at me. "That explains the smell."

"I don't start-" He cocks his left eyebrow, making me shut the hell up.

Anyway, I'm like mortified at that point and ready to call the manager when he goes, "Hmm." He holds up the negligee. "What do we have here?" His voice kills me, it being soft and deep and sultry. "I would LOVE to have you model this for me some time." He looks directly into my eyes and I melt, even though my body heats up.

Again I remain silent, shocked shitless.

If I had thought quick enough I wouldn't have bought the Cosmo. He takes that, again flips through the pages one by one. "Now, what do we have here? An article on the 'Top Twelve Sexual Positions That Will Drive Your Man InSANE.' This we MUST try! Reverse cowgirl, done that. The 69, highly over-rated. The Wheelbarrow, now that I have always wanted to try. How flexible are you?" he asks as he looks at me seductively.

I'm like dying inside, tossed between wanting to stake the bastard or fuck him. After I pay and he hands me the receipt, the lady behind me goes, "What time do you get off?"

He's still looking at me and goes, "2:30."

"Huh?" I ask stupidly.

"You wanted to know what time I get off of work. I'd love to take you …" He never like, finishes his damned sentence!

Take me where? I ask myself then mentally hit my forehead. My brain explodes.

"If you change your mind, my number's on the receipt. But you only have until four am. We'll need at least two hours." He smiles. "Thank you for shopping WalMart. Have a nice day."

Numbly I walk out of the store, throw my shit in the back seat and sit behind the wheel, looking at the number on the receipt.

So, I like dial the number and meet up with him. We have mind blowing sex, mastering all twelve positions in the magazine on the loading dock for three hours.

A week later I'm walking into the WalMart thirty miles from my apartment for my night shift. "Hey, Eric," I say as I pass him at his register.

He goes, "Hey."

"What time do you get off of work?"

"Three."

"Don't forget about that load of boxes that need to be moved back in the loading dock."

"Got it," he says then gives me a quick wink.


End file.
